MY OWN AUTUMN

For several weeks I've been taking themed photographs titled "My Own Autumn."  Autumn is a personal favorite and the picture taking has caused me to see my surround with new eyes. Carl Sandburg's poetry of autumn has increased the pleasure even more. Though our environments differ greatly, his rural and my urban, we share a passion for the beauty of autumn, for the poignancy of its passing-- and for the beautiful things that will come with the first snow.

In "Autumn Movement," Sandburg describes a season I recognize and resonate to.  In New York City in early November, we are experiencing his third verse, the yellow torn full of holes.  The new beautiful things that come in the first spit of snow await.  I can wait, too!

Autumn Movement by Carl Sandburg

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

Comments

[Ron LeMahieu]

Do you know "Nothing Gold Shall Last" by Robert Frost? It is about similar responses to autumn.

Ron

[Ron LeMahieu]

I went back to read the Robert Frost poem again. It is entitled "Nothing Gold Shall Stay" and is about Spring, not Fall.

Ron

[Bethene LeMahieu]

Thank you for doing the research--and for sharing the results! Robert Frost on the seasons is so perceptive and so gifted with the language. Bethene